She tilts her head, her face almost perfect to the extent I can’t help but wonder if she’s had work done, because a woman like her shouldn’t be in a business like this.
She’s too beautiful.
Too stunning to be doing such decrepit and dirty work, in the business of kidnapping people.
“You don’t know? You murdered my husband, Santino,” she says. “Livia DeLuca. I run the family empire, and you, my dear, are my new prize.”
Her prize? What the fuck is this woman droning on about?
She retrieves a metal key from her pocket and tosses it at me. “Unchain yourself. We have work to do.”
I don’t dally, grabbing the key from the cold cement and unlocking the binds around my ankles. I move to stand, my legs weak and my stomach roiling at the mere decision to stand.
“Don’t you dare get sick on my Louis Vuittons.” Livia scowls at me.
I swallow back the bile as I slowly rise to my feet, careful not to sway or falter. The room spins and it takes everything in my power not to stumble as my vision blurs. “What do you want with me?” I ask.
Livia smiles and laughs, sliding an arm sharply between mine, like we’re old friends. But there’s something much more sinister about her. I can feel the fiery gates of hell opening up around us as she touches me.
“Just do as you’re told and you’ll be out of here shortly.” Livia escorts me out of the abandoned warehouse and across the road, toward a mansion fifty yards away. Aside from the strange estate sitting on the property, there’s nothing in the vicinity for miles.
The air is cold, the sun nearly cast straight overhead. It’s noon or thereabouts. How long was I unconscious, a day?
I don’t think.
I run.
I take off in seconds, fleeing away from the warehouse and the building a short distance ahead. There are miles of nothing on the open road, flat desert as far as the eye can see. But there has to be a road, a highway, something, somewhere I can get help.
The pain radiates through my neck like lightning and fire burning me, dropping me instantly to my knees in agony.
My hands grip the collar, desperate to rip it off, but it doesn’t budge.
The pain extends far beyond the collar, the burning tingling down my neck, my arms, making my vision darken as I tremble for air, the throbbing unbearable, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Livia laughs and the collar goes still.
Silent.
Tears fall aimlessly to the ground, and I slowly turn my head as I gasp for breath. My heart pounds cruelly, like it might explode after that little bit of torture.
And that smile tells me there’s plenty more where that came from.
There’s no bitterness in Livia’s voice, no disappointment, either. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” Clearly, she gets off on hurting others. “Now, get up and do as you’re told.”
I rise to my feet, my knees wobbly and stomach doing somersaults.
Livia points to the mansion. “Let’s go.”
The building is stunning: a beige stucco exterior, two stories, but it’s unlike anything I’ve seen. There are columns extending along the veranda, keeping the harsh sun out while giving the home a Mediterranean feel.
No doubt the inside is just as luxurious as the outside.
It makes Dante’s compound look like a shack, and his place is gorgeous.
There’s a freshly manicured lawn, which looks out of place against the dry desert landscape around the property.
The driveway in front is brick, wide enough for multiple cars to park, but there are no visible vehicles, each of them tucked into the private garages attached to the house.
